Larger than Life: A Gigantic Romantic Comedy

By Derek

Mitchell has a crush on George—a ‘Gigantic’ crush. George might be seven-foot-four, and Mitchell might be five-foot-seven, but that doesn’t stop Mitchell from falling in love with the big guy. The two seventeen year olds are world apart, but Mitchell is not deterred. In this young adult LGBT coming of age romance, Mitchell will go to all sorts of whacky lengths to win George’s gargantuan heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek
• Release date: Jun 6, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311555328

Book preview

Larger Than Life: A Gigantic Romantic Comedy

By Derek Clendening

Published by Rainbow Reader Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Derek Clendening

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

About the Author

Other Works by Derek Clendening

Chapter 1

Let me tell you about George: he was ten feet tall and weighed six hundred pounds! No, no, no, that’s not right. He wasn’t really that big at all. It just seemed like it at first because he was so big and the rest of us were so small. Besides, I had enough trouble believing anyone could be as big as George was. For me, the first day of school had always ushered in the new and left behind the old, which was something I really liked. Normal kids hated the first day of school. It meant the loss of summer, the loss of freedom and carefree days. But me, I loved the first day back—who said I was normal?—but I didn’t realize the first day of school in my senior year would be life-changing.

As always, I arrived early with a book in my hand and sat in the middle row, just a few desks up. I opened my book and read until the other kids filed in. Their tired and miserable looks told the whole story. The morning bell rang and we stood for The Star Spangled Banner, doing the whole hand-over-the-heart thing, and listened to morning announcements.

Mr. Williams, our English teacher, waited for us with his hands latched behind his back and his belly hanging out. Oh yeah, and his breast-like chest sagging (his ‘goat-tits’ nickname speaks for itself, doesn’t it?). He was one of those tweed jacket with leather elbow patches types of English teacher—no treat, but I could live with him for a semester. The real excitement would come from hearing his army stories even though he’d only ever been in the reserves. For a guy who’d never left the United States, he sure made it sound like he’d fought in the world’s bloodiest battles.

This story is supposed to be about George, but I really can’t move on until I’ve mentioned one last thing about Mr. Williams: his snot rag. He kept that baby in his pocket and brought it out each time he needed to blow his nose and then stuffed it back into his pocket until the next time he needed to empty his honker. The consensus in class is that his famous snot rag hadn’t been washed since the Reagan administration. But I digress . . . .

Attendance was taken and soon we were ready to get down to regular business—Mr. Williams was stuffy enough to make us to real work on the first day of class—when a knock came at the door. I didn’t see anyone on the other side, like the person knocking had been trying to hide. But soon the doorway darkened. When Mr. Williams turned to look, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped, like he’d seen a ghost.

Come in. Mr Williams choked before he could finish his sentence. If you’ve got the right room then come in and get yourself seated.

I could tell right off that our teacher was lost for words, but I didn’t know why. Then Mr. Williams motioned for the student to enter like he or she needed more coaxing—much more coaxing. Finally, the boy I would soon come to know as George stepped through the door.

Only he didn’t stroll straight through like the other kids did—like anyone would, really. He ducked. Well, it wasn’t just that he had to duck. He leaned in and turned a little to squeeze himself into the room. Think of the way lots of people trying to pass through those tiny turnstiles at stadiums often have to turn sideways to get through. It isn’t uncomfortable per se, but boy is it a pain in the butt.

Before I’d even taken a good long look at George, I realized that his whole life must have been full of those inconveniences. Doorways were too small. I bet trying to fit into a car was no picnic. Ditto for the shower stall. Do I dare mention the bathroom? I used to think that Wal-Mart carried everything a person could want, but they had a limit on clothing sizes, right?

Somehow, I failed to appreciate his size even as he struggled to clear the door. Once he did, he stood to his full height. That’s when I first thought that he was ten feet tall. Only I knew that he wasn’t anywhere near ten feet. He was much taller than a really big Christmas tree, though. He stood well above the chalkboards. In fact, Mr. Williams only stood up to his chest. If I’d had to guess, I would have said that he was seven feet tall, but even that would have been conservative. He had to be taller than that even.

Six hundred pounds was a bad guess too, the more I thought about it. Even at such an incredible height, he would have been pretty darned round and six hundred pounds. He wasn’t rail-thin or anything, but it would’ve been wrong to call him husky. In fact, he was muscular in a lot of areas, especially his arms.

His clothes seemed to fit him nicely, which was a surprise. How the heck does a guy who’s anywhere near that size find clothes to fit him properly? You would think that his pants would be so short that you can see his ankles or that his shirt would be short enough to show his stomach. But not with George. I wondered where on earth he managed to find clothes that fit him so nicely. They had to have been hand-made.

His hair was dark and thick and getting kind of long. His full beard wasn’t that big of a deal for a high school senior, but it was better than what any of the other kids in school could grow. Most of them could barely fill their beards out whereas George looked like he’d been shaving since he was ten years old. Maybe eight. I’m not saying he was a lumberjack or anything, but his beard was just full. Even without the beard, I think he could have passed for being older.

One of the first details I noticed about him was his hands. They were, well, big. But it wasn’t just that he had huge hands; he had enormous fingers. They were long and thick like bananas. And then I peered down at his feet and was stunned at the size of his shoes. I wear a men’s eleven and I was sure that his shoes were twice that size. And that’s where, for the first time, I haven’t exaggerated. Those shoes really had to have been twice the size of mine, which weren’t exactly small to begin with.

I stared up at him. I guess there really was no way to look at George except to look up. It wasn’t that I wanted to gawk at him; I just couldn’t help it. No one else in class could help it either, it seemed, because no one’s eyes had left him since he’d shown up. I understand that no one had ever seen someone that big in their whole lives, and there was no way they ever would again, but they all had to whisper to each other. I was willing to bet that they were making jokes to. Whatever they hadn’t said they were definitely thinking.

George’s expression was blank and tired, like he didn’t want to be there. It was like he knew people were going to stare at him. I bet he knew what they were whispering too, as if he’d heard that song and dance far too many times. When I thought of it that way, I stopped staring. My eyes didn’t shift away from him exactly, but I refused to look at him with the sense of awe and wonder I’d had when he’d entered the room.

What you’ll also think is crazy is that I thought George was handsome. I’m not saying that he was going to be on the cover of People any time soon, but something about him was very appealing. I’ve always liked all sorts of guys, so I wasn’t surprised by my odd attraction. I didn’t hurt that he was tall, I guess. But I genuinely thought that he had a very nice-looking face. For a gargantuan, bearded guy, he had a wholesomeness about him. The whole package was . . . well, it was irresistible.

Of course, you have to consider those big hands. And his shoe size. Even if he weren’t seven-foot-whatever, those measurements were pretty sexy. You know what they say: big hands and big feet mean . . . ah hee hee hee.

He looked to be very strong, too. Like I said, he was just slightly muscular and not hulking, but I could see his biceps straining against his sleeves and the muscular outline of his pecks beneath his shirt. I didn’t know what the girls in our class thought of him, but he was very handsome as far as I was concerned. I didn’t care who disagreed. I’m the kind of kid that can think for himself.

As George stepped forward, the old classroom floor creaked under his weight. Even a new floor would have creaked under his weight as I felt every step the big man took. Once he stood right next to Mr. Williams, the size difference between them became its most obvious. A few kids even ooohed and aaaahed at the sight. As for me, my mouth stayed shut. It’d already occurred to me that this kid had gotten a lifetime of attention for his size and I wasn’t going to add to it.

Look, I really want to get the show on the road, Williams said. And that means you’re just going to have to take your seat. Any empty one will do.

His voice trembled a bit when he said it, and I was glad that he had a healthy respect for someone who was so much bigger than him. That’s not to say that he was afraid of George exactly. Mr. Williams was the kind of teacher that ruled his classroom with an iron fist and it would have taken someone as big as George—or bigger—to challenge his supremacy.

Deep down, I knew that George didn’t want to scare Mr. Williams or anyone else. People get this idea that really big people should be feared or are some kind of threat. I knew right away that that wasn’t what George was about. He would never hurt anyone.

I still looked at him, though, but not because of his size. I looked at him because I really, really thought he was handsome. Looks like his should be savored. I had a way of seeing the beauty in a person that might or might not have been there physically and I was proud of that. In a way, I almost hoped that I was the only guy in the whole world that thought that he was beautiful because that would mean it was special.

George did as he was told and scoped out an empty desk. The one he chose was second from the front and in the last row before the window. He peered down at it with the worried look of a man who’d been commanded to stuff himself into a little girl’s doll’s house. I remembered how I’d visited my old elementary school a few months before and how I’d wondered how I’d ever fit into those tiny desks now. There isn’t enough butter in the world to slip me into one of those things, even if I’m average-sized. But, you see, it was even worse for George. The size differential had to have been at least double what I would have faced had I tried to squeeze into my elementary school desk.

This isn’t going to work, sir, George said. His voice was so deep and strong